


Dolls

by alexdamien



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 21,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/pseuds/alexdamien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia and Spain want to buy some pretty dolls, but they're both broke. Shenanigans to get money ensue. Spamano, Pruaus, mentions of Gerita. - Work completely edited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prussia froze and pulled on the leash of Germany’s dogs. Their whining brought him out of his daze.

“Shit, sorry guys!” he told them, and petted them while keeping his eyes on the tiny dolls in the window display for the shop in front of him. “Really sorry, forgive me?” he asked, finally looking down at them with an apologetic smile. The dogs sat down in front of him, tails wagging. Prussia laughed, and turned his attention back to the little dolls dressed in different military uniforms before him “Look at that. They’re beautiful. Wait here, alright?”

He tied them to a post and entered the shop through the pastel pink door. A small bell chimed as he closed the door behind him and a group of little girls wearing fluffy princess dresses in the corner looked at him in fear. He smiled at them and nodded, but the girls still looked away from him in fear. He sighed and turned his attention to the white lace curtains all around the shop. He had never noticed that particular shop there, so it must have opened recently.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his battered leather jacket and inspected the different dolls standing in a dainty little white table, at the center of the store. One was dressed like Louis XV on his crowning day, and that made him grin. On the far back he found a doll of a Spanish noble from around the XV century. That certainly brought back memories. The hat the doll wore was great, and the jacket might fit Gilbird with a few adjustments. Spain would love it too, and with a little luck he would cook some paella for them once he saw that. He started thinking about a XV century themed party for all of them.

“Good morning sir, can I help you?” asked a woman with a baby blue apron. She carried on her arms a couple dolls dressed with ugly Christmas sweaters and reindeer hats. Prussia’s heart jumped at the sight of them. He wanted matching reindeer hats for Gilbird and himself, and he wanted them with all his heart. He looked up at the woman and saw the wariness in her eyes. Maybe Ludwig was right and he should stop his overexcitement about themed hats? He straightened and cleared his throat.

“Uhm, hi,” he said. “I wanted to know the price of that doll in the window. The one with the Prussian uniform.”

“I’m afraid that one is sold. It was a custom made one for a special client, but he hasn’t picked it up yet,” said the woman. She put the Christmas dolls on the table and picked up a Marie Antoinette one.

“So you make custom ones? Like, I can tell you how and you’ll make it?” Prussia’s eyes shone at the idea of having one made to look like Germany from when he was a kid. He could dress him up in all of the old clothes he’d had. Even that one with the suspenders and the hat that his brother absolutely hated.

“Uh…yes. It’s a bit expensive though…,” the lady said, looking at his jacked and his torn sneakers. “If you want one for your daughter, I could recommend another store.”

Prussia huffed. “I wanted it for myself actually,” he replied.

The lady gave him an awkward smile and took a step backwards. A tall man entered the store. He wore a really nice suit that reminded Prussia of the ones Romano sometimes wore to Mafia meetings. Behind him came a girl of no more than six years with dark brown hair in braids and a poofy pastel green princess dress.

“Look, there are your friends honey. Go say hi,” said the man, and pushed her forward, but the girl didn’t move and just looked down at the fabric of her princess dress.

The lady that had been speaking with Prussia turned to the man. “Good morning sir. I’ll get your dolls now,” she said.

The man didn’t even look up at her. He searched his wallet and took out a golden card. Germany had one like that too. One he never let Prussia use ever since he had bought a hundred green Irish hats for Saint Patrick’s day. Prussia was sure it had more to do with England’s angry call the next day more than with the actual hats tough.

The lady took the Prussian soldier doll and then brought from the back a doll carefully enclosed in a clear plastic case. It was a man with long blonde hair dressed in a blue uniform with a flute in hand. The girl gave a high pitched scream and reached for the dolls.

“That’s Fritz!” said Prussia, unable to contain himself.

“Excuse me?” asked the man, pulling his daughter closer to himself.

“I mean, that’s Frederick the Great,” he said.

“It’s Old Fritz,” said the little girl.

Her father looked at Prussia up and down, clearly not liking what he saw. “Hmm, my wife is a history teacher, and our daughter has developed quite the love for a few historical figures,” he said. “I take it you have a liking for history too.”

Prussia grinned. “I love history. Ha, ha, it’s like living again,” he said. “But like, in the past, you know.”

The bell on top of the entrance chimed and Spain came in, all messy hair and silly grin, waving an old bottle of wine in his hand. “Found you, asshole! Guess what I found in the attic!”

The girls in the corner gasped, and one in a pink dress pointed at Spain “He said a bad word!” she said. Another one started crying.

“Sir, I will have to ask you to leave. Both of you,” said the lady with the pink apron, glowering at them.

Prussia blushed. He saw the man glaring at him with barely repressed disgust, and decided to not make a fuss. Just this once. He pulled at Spain’s arm.

“Ok, lets’ go,” he said and pulled Spain outside with him.

“Sorry. I saw your dogs and entered,” apologized Spain. Germany’s dogs barked and licked at Spain’s hands when he kneeled down next to them. “It’s a doll store? What’s up with that?” he asked, standing up.

Prussia pointed at the window and the dolls with the historical clothing. Spain stepped closer to see them.

“I came in to ask about the doll clothes,” said Prussia and went to untie the dogs. “I thought of getting some new clothes for Gilbird, but they also make historical dolls. And very detailed too. Apparently they can make any doll you want. That girl inside got one of Fritz, can you believe that?” he said, and looked up at Spain.

“Any doll you want?” asked Spain, placing his palm against the glass of the display. “That’s interesting,” he said in a whisper, as if to himself. He stood there looking at the details on the dolls’ eyes and lips, then he scoffed a laugh.

 “They’re beautiful dolls. I want one too!” he said, and Prussia knew better than to ask him why.


	2. Chapter 2

At Germany’s house, Prussia baked some treats for the dogs waiting eagerly around Spain, who looked at the store’s webpage on Germany’s laptop in the kitchen table. Prussia checked the cookies and wiped his hands on the ugly Christmas apron he wore. It was almost September, so he had started bringing out the Christmas decorations, as per family tradition.

He looked at the bottle of wine Spain had brought with him and whistled. “This is really, really old. You were doing some serious cleaning up there.”

“Ajá. Took a while too,” said Spain, not even looking up at him from the laptop screen. He had never really cared much for technology, and using anything internet related still required a fair bit of concentration from him.

“That’s rare for you. You don’t go back to your old house in the country that much anymore,” said Prussia. Spain’s old house had been a thing they just didn’t mention at all for a few decades now.

“Hmmm, well, I’m behind a couple months on the rent for my city apartment and I was looking around for something to pawn,” said Spain with a slightly angry tone. He knew Prussia wanted to ask about his house, and he was having none of it.

Prussia left the bottle of wine on the table next to him and grinned. “The crisis is still pretty bad, uh?” he commented, turning the conversation away from the house.

He was atuned enough to Spain’s tone of voice enough to understand when things bothered him.

 

“Bad, bad, bad...,” chanted Spain, stretching his arms. “I renounced all of my payments until it gets better. The people were happy, and it was more symbolic than anything. But even if I don’t have to eat, I still have to pay rent. I should have listened to Romano when he said I should just buy an apartment instead of renting.”

Prussia shook his head. “And you found anything useful?”

“Nope. But I’d been thinking of going back to the country anyway,” he said, turning his attention back to the screen. “So, I guess I’ll start packing.”

“You sure?”

“Sip (Yep). The city’s too depressing lately anyway. Some work at my garden will be good for me,” said Spain.

Prussia nodded and grabbed back the wine bottle. “This wine would probably-“

“I’m not selling that one. It’s from back when we defeated England’s fleet and stole all his personal cargo, remember? We have to drink it.”

Prussia looked at the handwritten date on the label and tried to remember. His memory had gotten worse and worse lately. He cursed being a stupid enclave now.

Blackie barked, and Prussia looked back to the cookies in the oven. “Call France then,” he said, leaving the bottle and taking out the cookies tray. The dogs barked excitedly and surrounded him. “They’re too hot guys. You’re gonna have to wait a while for them.”

 

The dogs whined and gave him their best sad puppy eyes. Prussia had to look away as he took the cookies to the table.

Back in the kitchen, Spain whined. “They’re so expensive!” he cried, and let his forehead hit the table. He sobbed dramatically too, just for good measure.

“Really?” asked Prussia, looking over him at the screen.

“At least a whole months’ rent for each.”

“Scheiße.”

They fell silent for a few moments, until Spain lifted his head. “I still need one. I need it.”

Prussia smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, they went out to a club, thanks to a very happy France who did remember the battle and had decided to be very generous with the drinks.

“Think of it as a moving out party,” said France, and served them all another glass of Spain’s wine.

“That’s great! Thank you France!” said Spain, swaying forward a little too much. He was already very drunk, and was starting to yell everything he said. “It’s so hot here!” he yelled, and unbuttoned his shirt completely.

France laughed and called for a bottle of champagne. “You stop that dear, or you’ll be confused with the dancers,” he said, and waved to the tables to the side of the dancing floor, where half naked beautiful people danced.

“Will they tip me?” asked Spain

“Probably,” France pointed to Spain’s well defined abs.

Spain smiled, stood up and took off his shirt and tossed it over the back of the seats of the booth they sat in. A bunch of people around them turned, cheering. Some of them threw bills when Spain stood up on the table.

France laughed, until someone dropped a glass of something freezing down his back. He jumped up from his seat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted, and turned around to see a very pissed off Romano. He paled. “R-romano, what a surprise my dear,” he said, and refrained from trying to hug him when he noticed the two big burly Italian bodyguards standing just a few steps behind him.

Romano glared at him and took off his coat. He wore a fancy and somber black Armani suit, along with a black shirt and black tie, France noticed.

“What the fuck did you do to him and why is he taking off his clothes like that?” Romano yelled over the music of the club, pointing to Spain. “Hell, why aren’t you STOPPING HIM??”

Spain finally noticed him, and squealed, jumping over the seats to hug him. “Romano! Romano! Kiss me Romano! I’ve missed you so much!”

Romano squirmed in Spain’s embrace. “Spain, we saw each other last weekend. Get off me and put on a shirt.”

“I still missed you so much! I missed you every night!” Spain kissed the side of his face, grinning.

France sat back down, and grinned at Prussia, who was taking photos of them with his phone.

“Spain stop!” cried Romano, mortified at Spain’s affections. People around them cheered. Romano glared at them.

Spain took that moment to kiss him in the mouth.

A couple slaps in the face later, they all sat down at the same booth, but Romano hadn’t managed to disentangle himself from Spain.

“I can’t believe how cute you two are,” said France. “Did you come straight to see him after work? You should have told me, I would have been more selective with entry here.”

That caught Prussia’s attention, and he seemed to notice the black clad men around the club for the first time. Spain tough, paid his words no mind, and kept his face burrowed in Romano’s neck.

“It was nothing. I had an unexpected meeting nearby,” said Romano, avoiding France’s eyes.

France nodded with a sharp smile that he couldn’t soften. He knew how much one needed a warm touch after a difficult job, but when the mafia was involved, he wanted to be more informed than Romano would allow.

“What’s this? Are you happy to see me?” asked Spain, his wandering hands tracing something hard on Romano’s pants.

Romano gritted his teeth. “Spain that’s a gun, now stop before I shoot you.”

Prussia choked on his drink and Spain laughed so hard, he let go of him and fell back against the seat. Romano sighed and glared at France.

“And you keep fucking encouraging their nonsense,” he said.

“They need to party once in a while. We all do,” said France, grinning.

Romano huffed. One of his mafia bodyguards passed him Spain’s shirt, which he had recovered from the dance floor.

 

“Celebrate what?” he asked, pulling Spain up, and noticed he was crying while laughing. “What the hell?! What’s wrong with you now? Why the fuck are you crying?!”

“Sorry! I made myself sad,” said Spain with a silly smile, but all Romano could see was the light from the club lights reflecting in Spain’s tear streaked cheeks.

“He’s sad because he’s moving away!” said France, before things could escalate further. He looked at Prussia for help, but he seemed intent on looking at Spain’s shirt hanging from Romano’s hand.

Romano stared at France, too shocked to understand “Moving away? How the hell can you move away?! You’re a fucking country!”

Spain burst out laughing at that, and seemed to recover his wits. He wiped his eyes and ruffled Romano’s hair.

“I’m moving back to our old house,” he whispered Spain against Romano’s ear, the hand around Romano’s shoulders sliding slowly down to embrace his waist. “Please come visit me Roma, I miss you so much.” He kissed the back of Romano’s neck.

Romano turned red even in the darkness of the club. He pushed Spain away.

“Not in public, you ass! Now put on your shirt!” he said, and extended the shirt for him to put it on. A folded piece of paper fell out from the breast pocket. “What is this?” He picked it up and unfolded it. It was a drawing of a man in a Spanish uniform from decades ago.

 

Prussia snatched it from him and looked at it with a strange sharpness in his eyes. “Oh, so this is the one you wanted,” he said, and laughed.

“Yeah, but I’m not very good at drawing!” laughed Spain, taking the paper from him, and  Romano snatched it back from him.

“Let me see that,” he said, and looked carefully at the paper. Despite what Spain said, the drawing was almost perfect, with an astounding amount of detail put into the eyes, making it seem almost like a photograph.

“Who is this guy?” asked Romano through gritted teeth.

Spain giggled. “Don’t be jealous Roma. He was a human, and he’s already dead,” he said, reaching for Romano’s shoulders.

“I’m not jealous! I’m tired of you being a fucking idiot!” he stood up and threw the shirt at Spain. “You can keep making a fool of yourself for all I care!” he shouted, and left.

The people around them stared, but a snap of the fingers from France, and everybody got a free round of drinks, while a bunch of new dancers came out to divert the attention.

"That could have gone better," said France.

Spain shrugged. All the silly joy had vanished from his face. "I don't think it could. Not with Roma at least" he gave Prussia a cruel glare. "And not when you betrayed me like that."

 

Prussia shrugged. “It’s not me who keeps secrets from my boyfriend,” he said, pointing at Spain with the hand that held his drink, spilling some whisky on the seats.

“You damned-“ muttered Spain, grabbing a hold of Prussia’s shirt.

"Now now, we're celebrating. Let's not get carried away," said France with a look that told them they'd been through worse, but Romano always brought forth such strong emotions in Spain, it was hard dealing with him when he got like that. He pulled them apart and sat down between them.

"Give me the drawing," ordered Spain. Prussia blinked, then looked around their seat. Spain looked under his shirt, and in his pockets. "You lost it! Bird bastard!"

Prussia looked genuinely confused. "No, I took it from him and then you took it from me and then... Hell, I don't even know anymore man. Just draw another one. It took you like five minutes."

Spain growled and France pushed them back down on their seats.

“That’s enough,” he said, and ordered another bottle of that nice Sherry Spain liked.

A few drinks later, the incident had been forgotten completely, and they toasted to Spain's return to his old house.

Hours later, they dragged themselves through the streets of Paris, almost completely drunk and singing songs at least a couple hundred years old. The incident with the drawing completely forgotten.

Prussia ran ahead then turned around. "Sing something newer you old bastards! I don’t know the lyrics of half that shit!" He shouted, tripped over his own feet, and fell against a wall.

The other two laughed at him

"Already forgot these? Your memory really sucks!" said Spain, swaying even as he tried to pull Prussia up on his feet.

Prussia pushed him away and stumbled a couple steps, until he had to lean against a stop sign like a really bad pole dancer, which reminded Spain that he had taken off his shirt at the club.

"Did you pick up the money people threw at me?” he asked.

Prussia winked and signaled to France, who took out a small roll of bills from his pocket.

"Why did you want the money anyway? I was paying" asked France.

Spain twirled in front of him. "We're saving to buy dolls!"

"Dolls? Like, to play with?" asked France.

"I want one of West! And one of Fritz!" said Prussia, sliding down the stop sign.

 

France scratched at his head, trying to figure out what was going on, when he remembered the face in the drawing. "Ah well, if you need money then big brother can give-"

"No." Said Spain. He wobbled a little and fell against the wall behind him. Prussia laughed so loud, a couple passing on the other side of the street gave them curious glances.

"I need to earn it. I have my pride," he slid down the wall and fell down awkwardly on the ground. "A man's pride!"

France sighed. "Spain you're not even a real man. None of us are."

"Shut up! I am!" said Spain from the ground, glaring up at France.

"Alright, alright. But I still want to help you. Hmmm, well I have a new club," said France.

"I can't have a job until the crisis gets better," mumbled Spain

"I can't have a job ever!" yelled Prussia, laughing with tears in his eyes.

"I know! But I wouldn't be hiring you. You could work there and just earn what you can from the tips. I wouldn't be paying you."

Spain considered it for a moment staring at the starry night sky from the concrete ground. "Alright!" he said, with his old silly smile back on his face


	4. Chapter 4

Romano’s car parked in front of the house he shared with his brother and he stalked out.

“Burn the Agnello house. Tonight,” he ordered. The bodyguard to the right nodded. None of them said a single word, and he entered the house alone.

He could hear Feliciano rummaging in the kitchen as he hung up his coat.

“I’m back!” he called, taking a last look at the crumpled paper in his hand before folding it and shoving it in his pocket. Feliciano hadn’t answered, so he went to the kitchen.

Feliciano glared down at the pot of pasta sauce he had on the stove. In his delicate and gorgeous boyish face tough, it looked like nothing more than a pout. But Lovino knew better than that.

“What happened?” he asked, sighing. Tiredness weighed down on him, and he had no more energy to deal with anything else.

“The pope called. _The pope_ ,” said Feliciano, through gritted teeth. He turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a towel. “He’s excommunicating the mafia, so I hope you’re ready for that,”

“W-what?! That…are you serious? We have to go and talk to him,” said Romano, feeling his blood run cold through his veins. The people wouldn’t like that. They wouldn’t like that one bit.

“We? Lovino, it wasn’t me who let 'Ndrangheta become so powerful. I told you-!” yelled Feliciano.

“Oh, yeah? Well how the hell was I supposed to stop them, uh? Half my people are unemployed, but that doesn’t seem to bother you!”

“Now don’t try to act like this is my fault too!”

“Are you serious?!” yelled Lovino, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’re supposed be unified dammit! You can’t just leave me alone like this! Every fucking time something goes wrong you point fingers at me. I’m alright with taking care of the dirty business, but don’t act like I didn’t just gun down twelve people because _you_ ordered it!”

Feliciano took a deep breath and held up his hands. “Sorry… Sorry, I just…I lost my calm. I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what to do now…”

“Fuck if I know either. I’m going to sleep now, we’ll talk in the morning,” said Lovino, and walked out of the kitchen to his room.

When he laid down on bed tough, all he could think about was the face of the man that Spain had drawn.

 


	5. Chapter 5

A few nights later, Spain wore a waiter's uniform while Prussia put sparkling gel in his hair.

"I wouldn't mind doing this if it wasn't only me getting naked," said Prussia with a slight pout.

"Sorry," said Spain. "Romano would be too angry if he heard about me doing this. I'd better not risk it, ha ha!"

Prussia sighed. "Whatever. I'll be so awesome that I’ll get all the money we need in no time!" he said, putting on black leather gloves to complete his soldier costume.

"Alright!" cheered Spain.

"And this is much better than it used to be in soviet Russia!"

"...Alright..."

Spain left Prussia to finish getting ready and started waiting tables with a big smile. The girls and some of the men liked him almost immediately, and he got very good tips. Especially when he returned some of the flirtatious winks and smiles. All in all, he was having a lot of fun even if it was a hard and tiring job

As he finished giving a bottle to a group of friends in a corner of the club, he ran into France, who looked around with a worried look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" asked Spain.

 

"No, I just... Thought I saw someone," said France, tapping his lips with the tip of his finger.

Spain frowned, and looked around. "Really?"

"But like... you know, someone...," he gestured broadly at the air in around him, and Spain nodded. It was the kind of seeing where you felt someone in your lands who did not belong.

The stage at the end of the club lighted up, and the music changed. They stopped to look, and Spain realized he felt it too. Someone was out there, and their presence pulled at the usual harmony of the three of them together in one place. But as much as he tried to identify the person, he couldn’t put his finger on who it was.

The beat started, and Prussia walked out of the curtains with a confident stride that demanded complete attention, and a shine to his eyes that showed he was a man used to holding devotion in his hands.

He held the pole with his right hand, moved his hips and lifted the other hand to his audience.

 _Adore me_ \- his body said.

The club cheered in a frenzy.

He lifted a leg and hooked it around the pole, sliding down slowly, caressing it like a lover. Once kneeling in the ground, he unbuttoned the shirt, his gaze fixed ahead, looking at nothing and yet seeing every single person in the audience.

 

Spain grinned when Prussia took off the jacket, knowing that few would notice it, with Prussia's eyes controlling their attention. It had been a long time since Spain had done that.

In different circumstances, of course.

A frazzled looking waitress pulled at his sleeve. "Antonio, there's a customer who wants you to give him a lapdance," she said.

Spain laughed. "No way. Tell him I'm not a dancer."

"I told him! He's very insistent."

"I really can't," he said. Then there was a pull in the atmosphere, of someone revealing themselves, and Spain saw a brown haired head near the stage at the same time that he saw Prussia's shocked expression. Spain turned to France, but the other one was already way ahead of him rushing to the stage.

"Antonio you have to go talk to him, please," said the waitress, pulling at his arm, but Spain gently shook her off.

"Sorry, I really can't!" He called back as he ran towards the back of the stage. Prussia and Austria had disappeared, but Spain could feel their presence like a sharp buzzing in the air. He followed it to the dressing rooms behind the stage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He heard Austria shouting.

 

The dressing room door stood wide open and the other dancers peeked inside. France shooed everyone away and closed the door.

“Go away, there is nothing to see here,” said France, and in their minds, as soon as they looked away, there wouldn't be.

Spain stood to the side as everyone left "Are they...?" he started, but France gave him a calm smile.

"Let's leave them to solve it themselves," said France, and held on to Spain's arm.

"But Austria is-"

"Austria is always angry with him, is he not?” I'm sure they'll be fine. Trust big brother in this."

Spain shook his head. "Fine. If you really think so," he said, thinking on all the arguments he’s had with Austria during their own reluctant marriage.


	6. Chapter 6

Inside the dressing room, Prussia smirked at a very flustered Austria.

"I can't believe you are so shameless as to do these kinds of things!" shouted the brunette

“Austria please, you're being way too stuck up," said Prussia, taking off his gloves and hat and throwing them at a nearby table.

"How dare you?! When you were out there like a whore! Do you not realize how appalled Germany would be if he found out what you're doing?"

Prussia lifted an eyebrow at that. "He probably wouldn’t like it. But, I don't think he will find out," he said, and licked his lips.

Austria opened his mouth to say something, when Prussia stepped forward. Too close, too fast. Austria stepped back. Prussia followed. One, two steps. The back of his legs hit against something and he fell down into a chair.

Prussia set his knee in between Austria's legs.

“How could I convince you, little master?” he whispered so close to his face, he could smell the fresh scent of his cravat.

“You have got to be kidding,” muttered Austria, and pushed at Prussia’s shoulders, but the other held his wrists with a strength that shocked him, and set his hands down on the arm rests.

“Nuhuh,” he said, and leaned in closer to Austria’s neck, so that he would feel the brush of his lips when he whispered against his skin. “No touching, little master,” he said, and stepped back to look at him.

“Now little master, started Prussia, and took off his police hat, then put it lovingly on Austria's head. "Why don't you enjoy the show?"

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, while the other softly traced patterns over Austria's coat.

"This is so stupid," muttered Austria, but Prussia could feel his chest trembling under his fingers. He scoffed out a laugh and sat fully on Austria's lap. When the shirt was fully open, he slid it off, giving the other one a full view of the muscles in his chest moving.

"Really? But the other little master seems to think otherwise," he said, and his hands lowered to touch Austria's thighs, so very close to his crotch, teasing.

Austria blushed. "If you think even for a moment that I will-"

Prussia wrapped his arms around Austria's neck and grind his crotch against Austria, making him moan. He smirked at that, and grabbed a hold of Austria’s hair, moving him so that he could bit at the skin of his neck. Austria keened at that and Prussia laughed at him.

"Kesesese! You're right. This is stupid. Just fuck me already," he said,

Austria stood up too quickly and they both fell to the floor.

“A little too eager, little master?" asked Prussia

Austria silenced him with a kiss, forcing his tongue inside Prussia’s mouth to slide it against Prussia’s, making him moan. While Prussia was distracted, Austria opened the other’s pants and palmed his erection. Prussia gasped and kissed him harder.

"Aren’t you eager?" asked Prussia when they parted, smiling in a way that softened the usual sharpness of his eyes.

Austria froze under that gaze, and Prussia took the moment to flip them over so that he was on top of him. "Shall I take control now little master?" He asked, licking his lips. Austria swallowed.

Prussia pushed aside his stuffy coat and opened his shirt. Once open he passed his fingers softly over the skin. The way Austria shivered under him made his heart jump.

Austria held his thighs, writhing under him and trying to get more friction between them. Prussia leaned down to kiss his neck, making him gasp.

While he was distracted, Prussia sneaked a hand between them to unbutton his pants.

Austria gasped when Prussia licked his nipple.

Finally Prussia slipped his hand inside Austria's pants. “Tell me you came prepared,” he whispered.

Austria huffed. “This is a strip club, and I have to come prepared?” he complained, but took a small bottle from a pocket inside his coat. He lifted an eyebrow at Prussia, who smirked and grind his ass against Austria’s crotch.

Austria needed no more encouragement, and slipped off Prussia’s pants. Underneath he was wearing some awful red boxers with a small chirping bird printed in the right leg.

“Were you really going to show that to people?” asked Austria. Prussia snickered.

“Nah, I was going to show them something more interesting,” he said, and pulled off his boxers. Austria sighed, but a smile managed to slip past his lips. Prussia saw it, and lowered to kiss the corners of his lips.

Austria coated his fingers with the lube and slowly pressed one into Prussia. The albino hummed into the kiss, and started kissing down his neck while Austria added more fingers, searching for that place. Prussia bit at Austria’s collarbone and licked the red skin his teeth left.

Austria gasped, and he moved his fingers in a way that made Prussia whine and laugh at the same time.

“Did I-?”

“Fuck me you idiot!”

Austria took away his fingers and used the rest of the lube to coat his length. Then he held Prussia’s hips, positioning him. Prussia gasped and held on to Austria’s shoulder, his nails digging into the skin. Austria couldn’t remember the last time Prussia had been so passionate, wanting to be filled like this, moaning loudly when Austria pressed deeper into him. It made Austria’s heart beat so hard it was almost painful to look up at him and see that look in his face, completely lost in the sensation.

Austria grabbed Prussia’s dick and started jerking him off in time with the way Prussia bounced on top of him.

“P-Prussia, I…” he stuttered out, realizing he wasn’t going to last much.

Prussia looked down at him, and his eyes seemed to have an inner shine, but Austria’s orgasm overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes, moaning loudly.

A few minutes later, they both laid on the floor.

“Whoa. I’d forgotten about your pianist hands,” said Prussia, licking his lips. “Why don’t we do this more often? Why don’t we do this all the time?”

“Because you’re too busy playing at being a stripper.”

Prussia pushed himself up on his elbow and looked down at Austria on the floor. That strange look on his eye -all soft and bright like embers- was fading. “Aw, you jealous specs?”

“Of course not, you fool. Just...don’t do stupid things like this anymore.”

Prussia smirked. “Fine. Fine,” he said, punctuating his words with fluttering kisses on the side of Austria’s face.


	7. Chapter 7

France left him to himself, and Spain went back to waiting tables. Everything seemed to calm down after the little fiasco with Prussia's act, but he still had to deal with a couple customers being rowdy with the dancers.

The waitress from a while ago came back with an anxious look in her face and a glass of their best whisky.

"Antonio, I'm very sorry, but the customer I told you about? He wants you to give him this. He says he won't pay unless you go and he has a huge bill."

Spain sighed. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with things like this.

"That's alright, I'll deal with him," he said, and took the glass from her.

"He’s at the private room in the corner. Be careful, he seems dangerous, and he has bodyguards," warned the waitress.

"I think I'll be fine. But do tell Francis about it anyway," said Spain.

He made his way to the private booths with clear doors in the back. He was already thinking about how he would deal with the man when he noticed the bunch of guys in perfectly tailored Italian suits, and smiled.

It seemed like he had been so focused in Austria's presence that he had missed their other visitor. A very nice tactic. It made him proud.

He opened the door.

"If I had known it was you Roma, I would have come right away," he said.

Romano glared at him from the leather couch at the far end of the room. In the table in front of him were several glasses and an open bottle of champagne.

"Fuck that! What the hell are you doing in here?" yelled Romano.

Spain smiled and pointed to the glass in the tray he carried. "Waiting tables!"

"At a fucking strip club!?"

Spain walked past the pole in the middle of the room and set the glass on the table in front of him. "You don't like it? Waiters don’t dance, but I'll give you a show if you want," he said with a wink.

Romano scoffed "Yeah sure," he slurred. "The waiters strip too, so don't fuck with me."

Spain gritted his teeth. "What?"

"The guys tipped some waitress," said Romano with a smirk as he picked up the glass from the table.

Spain breathed deeply. A slow fury started burning in his chest.

"I see," he said in a whisper, then turned around and walked to the pole. "But if you wanted a show," he touched the pole softly. Up and down. "You should have told me it was you Roma."

"Don't be stupid! I just wanted you to come dammit! But you were just too busy looking at Prussia, weren't you? You didn’t even notice I was here!"

The rage inside Spain cooled, slowly, as if following the muffled sound of the beat outside. He grabbed the pole and fell against it.

"So you don't want me to dance for you Roma?" He asked, taking off his bow tie. Romano’s face turned completely red. "Because I've wanted to do this for you, for a long time."

He held on to the pole, hooked a leg on it and let himself slide down.

A sly smile, and Romano was already licking his lips. Spain’s smile turned into a smirk at that, and Romano looked away.

"Y-you're such a fucking idiot!" He stuttered out, and drank from the glass in his hand. He had already spilled half of it without realizing it though.

Spain laughed, and started unbuttoning his shirt.  He let it fall to the floor in front of Romano.

He got up and pressed against the pole, shivering from the cold against his heated skin. At the end of the room he heard Romano gasp.

Spain passed a hand over his chest, down, slowly; and let his fingers linger in the buttons of his pants. After locking eyes with Romano, he opened one button, then the next one, and rubbed his back against the pole.

“Roma…,” he moaned, and Romano left the glass in the table.

“Get here now, you jerk!”

Spain licked his lips, and walked towards Romano with long, slow strides. He could see the yearning in his eyes, now that the alcohol had made him more honest, and it sent a shiver through his body.

“Ah, Romano, you’re so cute all red like that,” he said, and ruffled his hair, carefully touching that one curl that made Romano’s breath catch in his throat.

“Ch-ch…Shut up,” said Romano, and Spain pulled harder. “Chiggii!”

“It’s too bad that we’re here,” whispered Spain, lowering so that he could whisper into Romano’s ear. “I want to make you scream so much.”

He licked the shell of Romano’s ear and rubbed the curl. Romano whined and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“My car is outside…Boss.”

Spain’s heart jumped, and he picked Romano up in his arms bridal style. When he came out of the room, the men parted ways and wisely looked away. Romano would probably beat him up in the morning when he was sober and realized what had happened, but at that moment he was moaning and rubbing against Spain’s chest, and that was all that mattered to him.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning Spain woke up because of an annoying sound. He stared at the ceiling and tried to make sense of where he was.

The memories of the previous night hit him all at one, and he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

Next to him, Romano burrowed closer to Spain’s warmth.

The annoying sound came back, and Spain reached for Romano’s discarded pants next to the bed and pulled out his cell phone, but by the time he got it, he had missed the call. He looked at the number and saw the call ID said Feliciano. He left the phone on the bedside dresser and closed his eyes again. If Italy wanted anything, he would probably call again, so Spain let his mind drift back to sleep.

A while later, he heard noise from the door, and fast footsteps approaching. He lifted his head just as Italy opened the door.

“Fratello! We’re gonna be late!” said Italy. He blinked, looked at Spain, and yelped. “S-Spain!”

“Hey Italy!” said Spain, waving a hand at him. He pushed himself up, the thin white sheet slipping off his torso, and Romano stirred next to him.

“Whut?” mumbled Romano, pushing a few messy locks of hair out of his face.

“F-Fratello! What are you doing? We have to go now, or we will be late for our meeting with the Pope!” said Italy, blushing as he tried to not laugh.

 “Meeting with the Pope?” asked Spain.

That woke Romano up. “Shit!” he said, holding his head. “I forgot.”

Italy narrowed his eyes at Romano. “Are you hungover?”

“No,” grunted Romano.

Spain bit his lower lip and avoided looking at Italy.

“You ARE hungover. Fratello, I can’t believe you!” sai Italy,pouting.

“I know dammit! Go away already. I’ll be there on time,” said Romano and threw a pillow at him, failing miserably.

Italy sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, big brother Spain,” he said, and closed the door.

Romano grunted. “This is all your fucking fault,” he said, and pushed the covers off himself.

“Why did you go look for me at a strip club when you had a meeting with the pope today?” asked Spain, shifting to lay on his side and enjoy the view of Romano looking for his clothes naked.

“I didn’t go look for you!” said Romano, throwing a sock at Spain. “I was around, that’s all. I had to talk with some of France’s men, which took a fuckload of time. Because obviously the jerk is too busy running strip clubs to actually do his job. I was going to give him a piece of my mind when I found you idiots playing stripper.”

Spain lifted an eyebrow at that. He noticed the way Romano’s shoulders stiffened, how his eyes seemed glazed over as his mind ran through his plans. The way he seemed ready to bolt at any moment. He knew Romano’s body the way he knew every grain of sand in his own beaches. Deeply, unconsciously, like it was a part of himself.

“Roma, come here,” he whispered, giving Romano a lazy grin.

Romano glared at him. “Spain, I have to take a shower now. I don’t have time for any of your dumb games,” he said.

Spain stretched out on the bed and whined. “Roooma~.”

Romano made an exasperated sound and stalked to stand next to Spain. “What? What do you want, you fucking idiot?!”

Spain stared up at him, smiling. “I love you Roma. Kiss me?” he asked, and pushed himself up to reach for Romano.

“Y-you’re so dumb,” muttered Romano, but lowered himself to meet Spain’s kiss. He sighed when he felt Spain’s lips, and didn’t notice the hands that embraced him until they pulled him down on the bed beneath Spain. “W-what are you doing?! I told you I’m in a hurry!” said Romano, flustered.

“I know,” said Spain, and took off his silver cross, to put it around Romano’s neck. “But I wanted you to have this.”

Romano touched the warm metal. His heart sped up when he felt it over his chest. “You never take this off. Why…?” he asked in a whisper.

“I thought you needed some help. To not burst into flames in front of the Pope, you know?” said Spain with a bright grin.

Romano punched right in the face.


	9. Chapter 9

Spain lay on Germany’s couch with an half frozen piece of meat on his face to help with the swelling of his black eye, courtesy of Romano.

“I love him so much PruPru,” he said dreamily.

Prussia stopped cold in his pancake cooking to glare at Spain from the kitchen. “Every time you call me that, I understand the rage that kid has so much,” he said, and resumed his cooking. Germany’s dogs whined. “I’m on it guys! Geez!”

“He called me Boss! And he’s so cute when he blushes, you have no idea! Ah!”

Prussia heard something fall and hit the coffee table, but didn’t move to check on Spain. The idiot tended to fall on things a lot these days.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get your ass in here or you’re not getting any pancakes, _Boss_ ”

Spain skipped to the kitchen and twirled right into his seat. He left a disgusting trail of hearts behind him that Prussia was going to sweep right into the basement as soon as possible.

“Aw, it doesn’t sound nearly as cute when you say it Prussia,” said Spain

Prussia turned around. “I am so goddamned cute, you have no idea bitch!” he said. Blackie barked. “See? He agrees.”

“He’d agree with anything as long as you give him pancakes,” said Spain.

The three dogs barked.

Prussia pouted. “Guys, work with me here, ok?”

They whined, so Prussia hurried with the pancakes and whipped up a batch in almost record time. He set up their dishes and put one on each, then sat back on the kitchen table with Spain.

“But seriously, we are very far from the amount we need to get the dolls,” he said, and stuffed his mouth full of pancakes.

“Ah, I know, I know. But stripping or working at a strip club is out of the question now.”

“Yeah. Too bad, because that seemed like the best way to get what we needed.” A peep came from the open window, and Gilbird flew straight to Prussia’s head. “Hey, where were you? We’re discussing important matters about your wardrobe, you should be paying attention,” said Prussia.

Gil peeped, and Spain thought that Prussia grew more and more attached to animals these days. He supposed that was a good thing, everything considered. He had noticed the way Prussia’s mind seemed to scramble his memories here and there, but until now it had been nothing too extreme, so he hadn’t made any mention of it. At least, until he and France had a better idea of what was happening with their friend. But still, it was disconcerting some times.

Germany entered through the main door, and his dogs all sat up to attention.

“Bruder, I’ll be going to Denmark’s place for a while,” he said, and came to the kitchen. “Oh, hi Spain. I didn’t- what happened to your face?!”

“Hi Germany!” said Spain through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Are you alright? Do you need medicine?” he approached to look at Spain’s black eye more carefully.

“Thanks Germany, but I’m fine. I made Romano a bit angry, that’s all.”

Germany sighed. “Fine. But if you need painkillers, there are some in the bathroom. You should try to lay down for a while too. Are you staying?”

“Uhm, maybe. I don’t have anything to do back home right now,” he mumbled, hoping that Germany would make no mention of his economy.

“The guest room is ready. Please don’t get wasted and fall asleep in the living room, you might get hurt more,” said Germany, and turned to Prussia. “Please take care of him…did you give pancakes to the dogs again?”

“No,” said Prussia. Gilbird burrowed his head among Prussia’s hair. A sure sign that he was lying.

“Berlitz didn’t even finish the one in his bowl.”

“Traitor,” muttered Prussia, and Berlitz whined, drooping his ears.

“Just…stay here and don’t try to go partying, alright? And no more pancakes for the dogs,” he turned to them with a stern expression. “We’ve talked about this guys.” They gave him their best sad puppy eyes, and Germany couldn’t bear to look at them. “Just one more. Only one!”

Spain giggled. “How cute. I’ll make paella for you when you come back, Germany.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know when I’ll be back. This might take a couple days, but I hope to finish as soon as possible. Just try to rest, and please don’t fill the shower with glitter again.”

“I said I was sorry!” cried Prussia. “I didn’t know that stuff is like, impossible to wash off.”

After some more advice about his black eye, Germany wished them a good day and left them to finish eating their pancakes. Prussia gave a second one to each of the dogs and patted Berlitz’s head.

“I have an idea,” he said, and Spain lifted an eyebrow at him. “We should sell paella.”

“What?”

“Yeah, there’s a market nearby. We can get a stand and I’ve got a few tables and you can totally cook that stuff like it’s nobody’s business so yeah, let’s get to it,” said Prussia.

Spain considered it, and like most things that ended up badly, he couldn’t see anything wrong about it.

“Sure, why not?”


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, after a couple trips to the store later, they loaded Germany’s car with everything they needed and went down to the local market to make and sell the paella, with the dogs napping on the back of the car.

“Are you sure people cook it there? In the stall?” asked Prussia, who was driving because Spain had never bothered with learning how to drive. Why bother when Romano would just drive him around in a stylish Italian car?

“Of course,” said Spain with his eyes closed.

Prussia nodded. “Yes, this is the best plan I’ve had this century!”

Spain lifted both eyebrows at that, but refrained himself from any further comment.

They arrived at the market and Spain started preparing everything to cook, while Prussia put a bunch of logs together to start a fire, each drawn to what they knew best, and Prussia was the best at setting things on fire; while Spain was the best at cutting things up to eat them.

In no moment did it ever occur to either of them that perhaps they could have used something a little more modern to cook, like a gas stove, or something that did not require an open 15th century style bonfire in the middle of a market. This, too, was because they were drawn to what they knew best, and what they knew best before anything, was to take an idea and run at it with all their strength and no consideration for the consequences of their actions.

A few passersby stopped to see what the fuss was about, but when they saw nothing more than simple cooking, they wandered off, thinking that perhaps this was some sort of demonstration of traditional Spanish cooking techniques.

Despite everything, it all went perfectly fine, and that was a small miracle all in itself.

When Spain had finished throwing everything into the paellera, he sat down on one of the chairs they had brought and laid back.

“It’ll take like 20 minutes or so,” he said, and closed his eyes to have a small siesta meanwhile.

“ _Or so?_ You’re not sure?” asked Prussia.

“Well, it’s usually around that,” said Spain, shrugging and taking a glance at his wrist watch.

“But there must be standard times, right? What if it gets burnt? Don’t just fall asleep like that,” said Prussia.

Spain narrowed his eyes and reminded himself of that Germanic particularity that compelled Prussia and his brother to draw strict lines for themselves and follow them rigorously. “It’ll be done when it’ll be done, don’t worry,” he said.

Prussia grunted, and glared at the bubbling food. Spain closed his eyes again and slept, dreaming of an afternoon spent at his old country house, looking at his garden, and waiting. Waiting, looking out at the clear sun that he wished there had been. In truth, it had been raining back then, with a dark and dreary sky that only cleared around midday.

The soldiers arrived and knocked down the door.

 _“I have been waiting for you. I knew you were coming. I knew it before you did,”_ his dream self said to the soldiers, just as he had said back then.

In his dream, they sat down to lunch with him. They laughed and then went on to have long peaceful lives.

In his dream, they didn’t drag him out to the back of the house. They didn’t tie him down and beat him.

They didn’t execute him.

Prussia shook him awake. “Spain, it’s been twenty minutes. Pay attention already!” he said.

Spain blinked at the brightness of the day, and noticed a cold sweat covering his forehead.

“Uh? S-si,” he mumbled, and looked down at his watch. 18 minutes had passed. He looked up at Prussia, who busied himself by rearranging plates and napkins uselessly.

“Was I screaming?” asked Spain, getting up to check on the paella. The same harsh straight lines Prussia drew for himself stopped him from waking Spain up two minutes earlier unless completely necessary.

“What? Of course not. What are you talking about?” said Prussia, but he didn’t turn to look at him.

Spain smiled.

The paella was nearly done, and he whistled a small tune while finishing up. Prussia gave him a beer.

“Look, I made a sign while you were asleep!” he said, and pointed to a cardboard sign written in impeccable Bastarda script style taken straight from the middle of the 17th century that read “Authentic Spanish Paela”.

Spain sipped on his beer while he considered Prussia’s easily wounded ego, whether or not anyone would care about the missing L in Paella, and whether or not that was an argument he wanted to have.

“…Looks good man,” he said finally. No, he did not want to argue about a missing letter.

“I know! Kesesese!”

A few curious people started gathering around the stall (mainly to try and read the sign), and they made a few sales. When the people realized how delicious the food was, the people came in throngs.

In less than a couple hours, they had sold almost everything they had made.

“I told you! I told you this was one of my best plans!” laughed Prussia.

Next to their table, Aster sat up, and the other two dogs did the same.

“And what is this great plan about?” asked a deep, sarcasm laden voice. Prussia and Spain turned around to see the Italy brothers.

Romano lifted an eyebrow at them, while Italy smiled. He carried a couple flowers bouquets and a box of cookies.

“Romano! What are you doing here?!” asked Spain, trying to climb the table to get to Romano, who recoiled. Prussia pulled him back.

“Stop that! You’re scaring the customers!” said Prussia.

Italy petted Germany’s dogs and gave them a cookie. After that, the dogs laid down under the table again to go back to sleep.

“Are you selling Paella? I want some!” said Italy, smiling brightly.

Prussia let go of Spain and held on to Italy’s hands. “Of course! Of course! I’ll get you some. For free! Anything for the little Italies!” said Prussia, his red eyes shining with happiness.

“Who the hell are you calling little?” grunted Romano. Spain smiled to him and went to get the last of the paella for them.

“If we knew you would come, we would have saved some more for you,” he said, packing everything carefully. There was just a plate left. When he turned around, he noticed Romano glaring at him with concern.

“I’ll cook some more for you if you really want it. Don’t be angry Roma.”

Romano scoffed. “I don’t any,” he said.

To Spain, it felt more hurtful that the black eye he had given him the other day. “…I see…,” he whispered.

Italy let go of Prussia’s hands and leaned over the table to look at Spain more carefully. “Big brother Spain! What happened to your eye?!”

“Uhm, well…,” said Spain, thinking up an explanation.

Romano pulled his brother away from the table. “He was probably being an idiot like always! Don’t go bothering people like that,” he said, flustered. Then he turned around to point at Spain. “And you should be lying down and taking care of that eye instead of cooking for strangers! Why are you even selling food anyway?”

It took a moment for Spain to process what Romano had said, but when he did, he laughed and patted his hair. “Aw Roma, you don’t have to be jealous. I’ll cook a whole pan just for you!”

“I-idiot! I’m not jealous! Stop patting me dammit, I’m not a child!”

“We were just trying to get some money, like the other day at the club,” explained Spain.

“So that’s why you were stripping?” asked Romano.

Italy gasped “S-stripping?” he asked, and took a step back, but tripped against the table, scaring the dogs underneath it who bolted out. Blackie hit Prussia’s legs on his way out, making him stumble and fall, knocking aside the paellera and throwing around a few of the logs that were still on fire.

“Shit!” he shouted, stepping on the logs to put them out. “Damn, that was bad!” he turned towards Spain. “I’ll get some water to put out the rest of the-“

Spain tackled him to the ground and started slapping him on the side.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” yelled Prussia, pushing him away.

“YOU’RE ON FIRE, YOU IDIOT!” yelled Spain.

Spain yelling at him shocked him enough to stop moving and looked at his sleeve and realized that indeed, his sweater was on fire. Spain tried to pat out the flames, but they caught on to his shirt too.

“Don’t move!” shouted Romano, and rushed in with a bucket of lemonade from another stand and dropped it on them.

Spain and Prussia froze on the ground.

“Are we still on fire?” asked Prussia

“I…think not…” said Spain, and collapsed on top of him. Romano threw the bucket on his head.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and the police arrived to fine their asses. Open fires, unregistered food selling, disturbing the peace, having dogs without leashes, public brawling…Spain didn’t know they could be fined for half the things they got fined for.


	11. Chapter 11

Lovino paced around the living room and his and Italy’s house with his phone in one hand and a duffel bag in the other.

“So it’s alright now? Just a fine? Make sure the idiots don’t have to spend any time in jail. They would only fuck up more,” he said, threw the duffel bag on the couch and hung up.

Feliciano laughed from the kitchen. “That was really funny!” he said from the stove.

Lovino stalked to the kitchen. “You weren’t laughing when they were on fire,” he said, and snatched a few cookies from the jar. “You weren’t even moving dammit, I’m sick of dealing with everything that goes wrong.”

“They would have been fine,” said Feliciano. “They have been doing silly stuff and setting things on fire for hundreds of years.”

“That’s not a good thing either. And besides, it was your fault,” said Romano, and stuffed a few more cookies in his pockets. “I’ll be leaving now. If that potato idiot is here when I get back-“

“He won’t, don’t worry. He’s getting back tomorrow morning, and I’m going to bring him some pasta for dinner,” said Feliciano. “So if you and Spain need the house…”

“We won’t! Dammit, why do you always have to mention that idiot?” said Romano, blushing all the way to his ears.

Feliciano smiled and walked up to him, straightening the collar of his shirt. “Just because,” he said, pulling at the chain of Spain’s silver cross under Romano’s clothes. “I like to see you be happy. And I know he makes you happy.”

Romano scoffed, but didn’t pull away. That was the only reason he tolerated the potato idiot too. Nothing could make Feliciano’s eyes shine like they did when he looked at Germany. He wondered if he looked like that too, and cleared his throat when he felt his face heating.

“What did the Pope tell you?” asked Feliciano in a soft voice.

Romano shook his hair back off his face. “Nothing good. He’s not taking back the excommunication on anyone who associates with the mafia. Not even for me. Especially not for me, in fact.”

“Uh?”

“He says that as long as I don’t fight them up front, I’m merely endorsing them.”

Feliciano sighed. “Fighting them only caused more and more murders. Pretending like we’re fighting each other and attacking their revenue points is working much better.”

“Well it’s not like I could tell him that, uh?” said Romano, shrugging. “It’s not the first time we’ve had to fight with the Vatican anyway, so who cares? I have to go now.”

Feliciano nodded, and Romano went to get his bag and his coat. As he climbed in his black car, he closed his eyes and thought on the last words the Pope had told him.

_There are burdens we must carry through the shadows._

Romano opened his eyes and looked out at the countryside speeding past as they approached the city. To him, it seemed like his very existence was a shadow spreading from the depths of his heart. A shadow of his grandfather. A shadow of Feliciano.

He touched the cross over his heart.

To him, Spain had never stopped being the sun.

He missed the light.


	12. Chapter 12

Spain and Prussia took the dogs out for a walk after finishing all the paperwork at the police station. They needed fresh air more than the dogs did, though.

“Maybe we should give up?” said Prussia.

Spain took a deep breath. “No. Nope. Can’t do. We can’t give up. We have to keep on going. Passionately!”

Prussia narrowed his eyes at him, but decided not to comment on his choice of words. “Well then, I hope you have a better idea for making money, because I sure as hell am out of them.”

Spain stretched. “Uhmmm, don’t have any ideas either. But we’ll think of something. Remember that time when we needed to get enough money for a passage to the Indias?”

“Yes, but now it is very frowned upon by society to do part time mercenary jigs so that option is out of the question,” said Prussia. Even if, after all that had happened to him, he was in a serious fight picking mood.

“Yes, but I meant it in the sense that we must keep searching for opportunities. Like those girls, look. They opened a car wash!” said Spain, pointing ahead of them.

Indeed, just a few meters in front of them was a house with a bunch of girls in tiny shorts and bikinis washing cars. There were five cars waiting in line.

“Spain we already tried that,” said Prussia. On top of his head, Gilbird chirped a happy tune.

“We haven’t tried washing cars,” said Spain with a bright smile only darkened by the purple bruise around his right eye.

“You know what I mean.”

But Spain had stopped listening, and jogged the few steps left to reach the car wash. “¡Hola, hola! Good day nice ladies! Do you need some helping hands? My friend and I would love to help you with the car washing!”

Prussia sighed and approached too. The dogs went to lay down on the grass of the garden in the girls’ house.

The girls looked at them warily and one of them, a tall brunette with skulls printed on her shorts, approached Spain. “Well, boys, if you can put on the uniforms, you’re on it,” she said, pointing to her skull printed bikini top.

The other girls laughed, but Spain only smirked and took off his shirt. They stopped laughing completely. He took off his pants, revealing smiley tomato print boxers. “I don’t have a bikini though,” he said.

The girls just stared at Spain in amazed silence.  

Prussia felt jealous enough of the attention to take off his shirt and pants too, until he was left with only his bird printed boxers. “I don’t have a bikini either!” he said.

One of the girls gave an appreciative whistle. A passing car honked at them and made the single most illegal u turn ever to get in line for the car wash.

The girls had no trouble finding bikini tops for them after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swiss interest rates are INSANE. They at one point charged 0.0%!!


	13. Chapter 13

Hungary and Belgium walked down the street, munching on the waffles that were supposed to be for Spain and Prussia.

“I can’t believe we come all the way here to bring him something and he’s not even home,” said Hungary, and bit angrily at her waffle. Belgium giggled.

“We should have called beforehand,” she said.

“Hmmm, but Germany said he and Spain would be home. He wouldn’t have asked us to bring them waffles. Well, more waffles for us, I suppose…”

“Kesesese!”

Hungary froze on the spot and looked up from her waffle. A few houses down the street was a car wash, and Prussia was laughing with some middle aged flustered woman who seemed unable to tear her eyes away from his chest covered in a yellow bikini top. Behind them Spain washed a teen’s car while she ogled his ass. The line of cars extended down two blocks.

“Belgium…” whispered Hungary, but the blonde was way ahead of her, and already had her cellphone out.

“Let’s get photos! Come on!” said Belgium, and ran up to the car wash with Hungary close behind.

“Prussia! Boss Spain!” she called with a soft voice full of mischief.

Prussia saw them coming and blushed a little when he realized Hungary was the one running behind Belgium. Spain only smiled and waved at them.

“Well, well, is this your new job? Does Mr. Austria know?” asked Hungary, taking a photo of him and Spain with her phone. Gilbird tried to stop her by chirping angrily in front of Hungary’s face, but she managed to send it to Liechtenstein with the message Bring a nice camera.

“No,” grunted Prussia. “And no photos! We wash cars, not-“

Spain came up behind him and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Photos are charged separately,” he said.

Prussia blushed and looked away. Hungary’s heart fluttered at the thought of giving the photos to Austria and seeing him all red and flustered.

“How much?” asked Belgium and Hungary at the same time.


	14. Chapter 14

Liechtenstein was lying on the sofa and watching her favorite soap opera when her cell phone rang. She distractedly reached for it, trying to not upset the popcorn bowl lying next to her.

She had just gotten so comfortable! And Marcelius was about to declare his love for Celia without knowing that she was his long lost sister who had just been diagnosed with an incurable sickness; and that message had better be important because she wasn’t going to miss this.

Switzerland leaned over the sofa and gave her the cell phone. “I told you to watch it in the bedroom,” he said.

Liechtenstein smiled at him. “Thanks big brother. But it’s so comfy here!”

Switzerland shook his head and went to the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Cheese fondue would be nice!” she said, and looked down at the message from Hungary.

 _Bring a nice camera_ , it said, with a photo of Prussia and Spain wet and covered in foam washing cars in the street. She jumped off the sofa, not caring that she spilled a bunch of popcorn on the floor. “Brother I’m going out with Hungary! I’m taking your camera! And your car!” she yelled, running to the door. She grabbed the car keys and the camera from the coat closet, and was out of the house before Switzerland could get out of the kitchen.

“Wait! Where are you going? What-?!” he said, but his sister was already gone. He looked at the tv still turned on and the mess of popcorn all over the sofa.

“Did something happen to Hungary?” he wondered to himself, picking up the bowl and noticing that Liechtenstein had forgotten her cell phone. Worried, he looked at the last thing she had seen, and his face turned completely red.

“W-w-whaaaAAATTT???”

He ran out of the house, rifle in hand, but Liechtenstein had indeed taken his car. He looked around, pondering his options. He could take a cab, or he could be frugal and ecological by taking Liechtenstein’s glittery pink bike on his way to murder those two perverts who were corrupting his sweet little sister.

Yes, frugality was the highest of virtues.


	15. Chapter 15

Spain drove a surprisingly hard bargain, and by the time Liechtenstein parked Fast and Furious style in front of the car wash, he had managed to get a very nice price for a few photos of him and Prussia on the cars. A few women (and some men) hung around trying to get photos too.

“I’m here! I got my brother’s camera!” said Liechtenstein, getting out of the car and holding the camera up like a trophy.

“Wow…,” said Prussia. “I didn’t even know she could drive.”

“She can,” said Hungary. Prussia glared at her, but backed away. More out of being almost naked and wet than out of being outnumbered by a multitude of excited people who wanted to take photos of him. He took Spain away from the crowd.

“Dude, I told Austria that I wouldn’t be getting naked anymore!”

“We won’t get naked!”

“Spain!” he pulled him closer by the red polka dot bikini he wore. “So help me if I have to sleep in the garden with the dogs again because Austria goes crying about this to my brother, I will personally dismember you.”

A loud squeal made them look towards where Liechtenstein was desperately taking photos of them to see something very fast and very sparkly park in front of them.

The fast, sparkly thing shot at them, and everybody fell to the ground.

“No! Brother!” cried Liechtenstein, and pushed Switzerland off the bike. He stumbled off and lowered his rifle. Some of the glitter had gotten all over his clothes and he looked like the most violent disco ball in history.

“Stand back Liech, I’ll take care of these perverts!”

At the back, Belgium sniggered until Hungary elbowed her.

“Wait! Switz! Stop!” cried Prussia. Switzerland aimed at him.

“What is going on here? Explain now, or I’ll turn your guts into sausages, you sick perverts!”

“Brother wait! They weren’t doing anything bad!” Liechtenstein cried. Hungary stepped closer, yet still away from shooting range.

“Listen to her Switzerland!”

“Tch, fine. I’ll listen, and then I’ll shoot,” said Switzerland.

Spain and Prussia looked up at him in terror, until Spain got his guts together. “I-I mean w-we were just, uh…trying to help these girls with their car wash-“

“Lies!”

“No wait! I mean, uh, we…Actually we really need to save up some money, and uh you know neither of us can have a job, so these girls let us help them and get paid,” said Spain as fast as he could. Switzerland glared at him. “That’s the truth! I swear!”

"Yes! Saving money! You know how important that is!" Said Prussia.

Switzerland lifted an eyebrow at them. He wasn't prepares to deal with that. Liechtenstein put a hand on his arm, inviting him to lower the rifle.

"They're trying their best, big brother!"

Switzerland gave up. "What do you want the money for?"

Spain and Prussia looked at each other in despair.

"I'm moving!" Said Spain. "I'm moving out of my apartment and I need a truck and...some...other stuff..."

“We have to help them big brother!” said Liechtenstein.

“Hmmm, well, I could maybe arrange a loan…”

Liechtenstein pulled at his sleeve lightly. “That’s not helping!”

“If charging .5% interest isn’t helping, I don’t know what helping is.”

“Big brother!”

Spain gave them a half manic smile. “Let’s be honest, I still owe you 50 francs from the 1800.”

Liechtenstein pulled more at his sleeve, and Switzerland sighed. “I really don’t know how I could help in this situation.”

The girls of the car wash who had wisely taken cover behind a car finally dared to try and see what was going on. Liechtenstein took the rifle away from his brother and checked the safety lock on it. When the girls saw everything was safe, they walked out of their hiding place. They looked up at Switzerland, who wore only a simple tank top and jeans (home cleaning clothes), and brightened up.

“Why don’t you help your…friends, and work with us?” said the tallest one.

“What?!”

Liechtenstein’s smile lighted up so much, it could provide electricity for a small town for at least a year. “Yes! That is a great idea Big Brother!”

“I…I can wash cars, but…I could never wear something like that.”

“You’re right, those are girl clothes. I’ll help them!”

Switzerland paled. “No way! You can’t do that! I won’t allow it!” he glared at Spain, Prussia and the girls. “Fine, I’ll do it. I am strong enough to do it.”

Liechtenstein smirked behind Switzerland, and all the ladies in line gave her a thumbs up.

The girls found a dark green bikini for him, and some denim shorts. Sitting at a table in the garden, sipping mimosas, Belgium, Hungary and Liechtenstein watched. They had gotten a video camera, and after negotiating another exorbitant price with Spain, got to record the entire thing.

“I’m sending this to Austria this very day. I can’t wait,” said Hungary.


	16. Chapter 16

Spain counted the money on the kitchen table while Prussia talked on the phone to the flower shop.

“I want two bouquets of red roses and a dozen edelweiss, yes...yes, that’s the address. From Gilbert Beilschmidt to Roderich Edelstein…what else? Is there supposed to be something else in the card?...Hmmm, well, let me…hold on a second,” he covered the speaker and went to the kitchen. “What do I tell him in the card?”

Spain didn’t even lift his eyes from counting the money. “I love you, please don’t make me sleep in the garden with the dogs,” he said.

“I’m serious!” hissed Prussia. “You’re the country of passion, can’t you come up with something passionate?”

“Please, please, please don’t make me sleep in the garden! I love you so much!”

Prussia kicked him in the shin. “Asshole,” he muttered, and uncovered the speaker. “Ok, just write, uhh… I’m sorry. I love you. Yes. Just that. Thank you,” he said, and hung up. Then he went to the kitchen and sat down in front of Spain, whining. “He’s going to see that video, and be mad at me for at least a year, ugh…”

“Uhu, yeah,” said Spain, waving a hand to sign that he didn’t care how long Prussia would have to sleep in the garden. “So I finished counting and we have just enough for three dolls. No extra clothes. I want one doll, and you can buy whatever you want with the rest of the money as long as you help me move out of my apartment.”

“I’ll ask West to borrow his truck,” said Prussia, picking at the torn hem of his long sleeved shirt.

“Perfect. What are you going to buy?” asked Spain.

“A doll of West, and a doll of Italy when they were little. My babies. I miss dressing up West in his little uniforms,” he said. On top of his head, Gilbird peeped. “Come on, I’ll get you some new clothes later. Wait a little longer.”

“Didn’t you want one of Old Fritz?”

Prussia pouted. “I do! But I can’t get one of West and not get one of Italy. They’d get lonely!”

Spain nodded. This was another argument he didn’t want to have. Besides, it was true. He got up. “Let’s go place the order, and stop by the wine store for something to celebrate with.”

“Yes!”

They brought their sketches of what they wanted the dolls to look like, and paid for half the price. Thankfully there were no little girls around to complain about their language. On their way to the wine store they called France, who said that he would also bring a couple bottles to celebrate and meet them at Germany’s house.

So, of course since they would be more, they bought two bottles of wine instead of just one. Despite the fact that there was a full bottle of whiskey and a bunch of beer cans in the house.

By the time France arrived with an assortment of delicious French food and two bottles of champagne, they were down a bottle of wine, and all the beer, and Prussia had already started singing while standing on top of the couch, using a hair brush as a microphone.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” cried France, still carrying the plates in his hands.

“West is coming back early tomorrow! We have no time to lose!” yelled Pussia.

Spain sneaked behind France and pressed a shot glass of whiskey against his lips. “Come on, you have to catch up!” he said, and France swallowed.

“Mon Dieu! You are very excited today. What are we celebrating?” he asked, and set down the plates on the dining table. Prussia jumped off the couch and clung to France.

“You brought Coq au vin! Fritz loved that!” he cried, then let go of him. “I need my old hat! I need it!” he said, and ran to his room.

France turned to Spain and lifted an eyebrow.

Spain shrugged. “Hey, he downed an entire six pack while I was cooking. Don’t blame me,” he said.

“He’s really excitable,” said France.

“He’s trying to forget the fact that when Austria sees the car wash video, he’s going to sleep in the garden for like, a month.”

France smiled and held Spain’s hands. “I saw that! I love Liechtenstein’s blog!”

Spain recoiled. “I didn’t even know she had a blog.”

“She does, and it’s great. Wow would have known Switz was so buff under those stuffy suits he always wears. And you, you have very nice abs.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Awww…”

Spain filled a glass of wine for him. “Here, drink it and only talk to me afterwards,” he said, and looked to the food. “I hope you brought something nice because there was nothing in the fridge.

“Oh, just a few things I put together real quick,” he drank the entire glass of wine and held it out to Spain. “Another. I have lots of catching up to do.”

Spain happily refilled his glass. And his own. And, when Prussia came back, dressed in an old military cape and hat, they opened the champagne.

Later on, France found out that they were celebrating that they had earned enough for the dolls, and that Spain was finally moving back to his house. And that Spain had managed to not say fucker or asshole in front of the lady at the doll’s store. Oh, and that Berlitz had finally learned how to play dead.

They celebrated everything they could think of. By one in the morning, when Germany arrived unexpectedly early from his work trip, they were celebrating that they had celebrated so many things, and he found his brother singing Preussen’s Gloria disco style on the Wii, along with France and with Spain playing the tambourine along with them.

The Wii that he didn’t own.

On the flatscreen that he didn’t own either.

And along with the tambourine that he was sure none of them owned.

“What is going on in here?!” he yelled, dropping his briefcase.

Prussia whirled around with the happiest smile Germany had seen on him in centuries.

“West! You came back,” he said, and scrambled up on the couch to try and reach him, but tripped over his own feet and fell over, tipping the entire couch over along with France.

“Stop! Stop!” shouted Germany, and rushed to help his brother.

France stumbled up, trying to pat down his messed hair. “Germany, you were supposed to be here *hic* tomorrow,” he said.

Spain, pulled him up, but he escaped and went to hug Germany, who held him so that he wouldn’t fall over.

“Don’t do that! Don’t! He’s mine!” yelled Prussia, swatting France away from Germany.

“Spain please take France away,” said Germany, trying to control his temper as best he could. “I’ll deal with my brother.”

Spain swayed to the side a little, but managed to get a hold of France and pull him away. “Come here, Francia, vamos. Sorry Germany,” he mumbled, and they held each other as they left.

Germany sighed, and then looked around until he found his brother curled up on his side on the floor, mumbling something Germany didn’t understand.

“I can’t believe this. I told you to not make a racket. You never listen to me. Spain’s eye wasn’t even fully healed,” he said as he pulled Prussia up from the floor.

"West, west," said Prussia, and mumbled something unintelligible.

"I've had enough. I'm taking away the computer-"

"Deutschland..."

"What?"

Prussia hugged him.  "You're so big," he said, like it was the most amazing thing in the world. Like he had been given the reason for why the earth existed and spun, giving him endless dawns and dusks.

Germany sighed. "You need to sleep."

"No, but you're so big and strong!"

 “Yes, I am very big,” said Germany, humoring him as he picked him up and carried him to bed.

“No, but you’re so great!”

“Mhm.”

“I’m so happy. I knew you were the best,” he mumbled, and relaxed against his chest. “I told Germania, that I would make you strong, and I did.”

Germany froze at the doorway to Prussia’s room. “Ah, B-bruder…”

“I’m a good brother, right? I’m awesome because you’re the best and the strongest, and even death couldn’t take you away. No, I told Austria death wouldn’t be enough to take you away. This is great, great, great…,” he said, crying and smiling against Germany’s chest.

Germany put him to bed, and stayed all through a tearful description of how cute he looked in lederhosen half spoken in Arab with a heavy German accent, until Prussia fell asleep.

He stayed next to him to watch him sleep. Like he remembered Prussia staying with him when he was little.

Always a constant presence, to the east.


	17. Chapter 17

The next day, Prussia woke up around noon and scrambled around the bedside for the phone until Germany gave it to him.

“Uh? W’t are…hour…?” he asked, perfectly convinced that he had made full sense.

“It’s noon. I made pancakes, and Spain is on the line,” said Germany.

“I dn’t…when did you arrive?”

“Last night. I gave the flatscreen and everything back to the neighbors and got back your underwear.”

“Ah…no, I do remember that, but…shit.”

“Bruder, Spain. On the line.”

Prussia passed a hand through his hair and pressed the phone to his ear. “Ok. Yes? Spain?”

“Prussia, I’m dying,” whined Spain from the other end of the line.

“No shit. I ain’t going anywhere today. God, the light. Ugh,” said Prussia.

Germany sighed and used a dark blanket to cover the window. Prussia thanked him with a smile. Germany shook his head and left.

“I’m not moving today,” said Spain.

“Like hell you are,” said Prussia. On the other end of the line, he could hear something that sounded like banging on the door of Spain’s apartment.

“Ya voy! Ya voy!” called Spain. “Oh, this is punishment from heaven. I don’t know what I did to earn it, but it must have been bad.”

“Knowing you, I bet it was. You go get the door, and I’ll be there tomorrow maybe,” said Prussia.

“Tomorrow _maybe_?”

“Yup.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

Prussia hung up and buried himself back in the covers, pondering whether or not he had the strength and stomach to go get some pancakes. For the time being his stomach said no, but his heart said try it anyway. He heard the doorbell ring and whined. Who called on people’s doors at such an ungodly hour? He heard voices in the living room, and Germany sounded harsher than usual. He prepared himself to get up and go see what the hell was the problem, when the door to his room opened and someone yanked the covers off him.

“EEH?!” he yelled, scrambling away. Austria glowered down at him. At the doorway, Germany observed, unsure what to do.

“What happened?” asked Austria, with an edge to his voice that came out only in the battle field.

Prussia scrambled backwards, and fell down the other side of the bed. “Eh? Happened? I-I don’t-,“ he mumbled.

“ANSWER ME!” Austria grabbed the bed and pushed it out of the way.

Germany sprang to action, and held him. “Austria, maybe this is not the right time-“

“Let go of me! I want to know what this means right now!” he said, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “You’re sorry you love me?!”

“Eh?” Prussia jumped to his feet. His stomach turned, and he stumbled a little. “Sorry of what?” he took the paper from him and saw it was a nice white card with perfect calligraphy that read “I’m Sorry I Love You.” It took him a moment to process the information. “I DIDN’T MEAN THIS!”

His stomach said it’d had enough, and he bent over, clutching at it. Germany let go of Austria and carried Prussia to the bathroom.

A few minutes of painful retching in the bathroom, lots of brushing his teeth, a couple pills, and Prussia was ready to face the world again. Specifically the Austrian part of it, who sat on the living room glaring at everything he saw.

“Ok, I’m alright now,” he said, walking towards the living room. He bent over the back of the couch, draping his arms over Austria. “I should have just written _sorry for washing cars in a bikini_ ,” he whispered against Austria’s hair. It smelled of high ceiling halls, empty and cold.

“Was that it? That dumb video Hungary sent me?”

“Mhm. I didn’t want you to get angry and make me sleep in the garden again, but I didn’t know what to say. I meant that I was sorry about it, and that I love you,” he rubbed his face against Austria’s hair and hugged him harder. It was rare that Austria let him smell his hair like that. He usually thought it silly and annoying. “If you want me to, I can wash your car in a bikini!” he felt Austria shaking. “Ok, not your car. I’ll clean the house, how about it? I’ll make it sparkle! I’m really sorry,” he climbed over the back of the couch to try kissing him, and ended up flopping down next to him. “Austria? Are you really angry?”

Prussia looked up at him and saw he had his eyes clenched shut, and big tears falling down his cheeks silently.

“Austria...?”

Austria slapped him on the face. “Don’t look at me when I’m crying!”

Prussia knelt next to him and placed a trail of feathery kisses up his cheek.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t look,” cried Austria, pushing him away. “You idiot. I thought something had happened to you. I always thought you would… apologize…before the end.”

Prussia kissed him on the mouth.

“The end? Don’t be an idiot,” he said, and grinned at him. “I’m alright. Better than alright, I’m great! Awesome!”

Austria sighed. “You have always been so bad at lying,” he said.

Before he could say anything else, Prussia tackled him on the couch and kissed him.


	18. Chapter 18

Spain let the phone fall from his hand. He had no energy to pick it up.

“¡Señor Antonio! Sé que está ahí. ¡Abra por favor, es urgente! (Mr. Antonio! I know you’re there. Open the door please, it’s urgent!)”

Spain whined, and threw the covers off to the side. Of course his landlady chose this very moment to appear and demand that he get the hell out.

“¡Ya vooooy! (I’m coming!),” he called, searching for his shoes, or slippers, or anything. He found one of his shoes under the bed, and the other near the window. He pulled the curtains to block as much light as he could, and noticed a very expensive black car parked in front of his building. It seemed familiar somehow, but he didn’t have the energy to will his brain to remember.

He stumbled his way to the door, and found his shirt thrown over a chair. He considered putting it on, but decided he had more chances of not being evicted if he answered the door topless.

After a deep breath, he put on his best smile, and opened the door.

“Ah, Mrs. González. I’m sorry, I came back really late yesterday…today…I mean, I don’t think I can move out today. I’m really sorry, I-“

“No, no. I wanted to tell you, you don’t have to move away anymore. Oh, dear. I’ve been trying to call you everywhere for the last few days. I was so worried that something might have happened to you.”

“N-no, I’m fine. I was just…helping a friend with a few things at his house.”

“Ah, that’s very well. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that your friend came to see me a few days ago, and paid for the three months you owed, and a full year.”

“What?! Who was it?”

“That nice young man, with the curl on his hair. The one with the Italian accent. I think his name was Luciano? Lucio?”

“Rom- I mean, Lovino?” His cellphone rang. “Oh, excuse me I-“

“It’s alright. I just wanted to tell you that,” she looked him up and down. “Have a nice day.”

Spain closed the door and searched for his cellphone. It was in his jacket. But for some reason he had thrown his jacket next to the refrigerator.

“Hello?”

“You idiot! Why haven’t you opened the door?! I’ve been here calling on the intercom for ten minutes, you lazy jerk!

“Sorry Roma, the intercom is broken,” he looked out the window, finally remembering where he had seen that car. Under his window, Romano glared up at him, dressed in Armani, with a stylish black coat on top; across the street his mafia bodyguards had a smoke. He had really made a good work of keeping them in check lately.

Spain waved at him, and the door opened.

“The elevator’s busted too. Sorry!”

“Idiot!”

While Romano climbed the stairs, Spain took a couple painkillers, washed his mouth and face, and tried cleaning up a bit among the mess of boxes in his apartment.

“How do you…climb six floors…every time…,” panted Romano. He had taken off his coat and had to lean against the doorway. “Forget it, now I see how you have abs.”

Spain blushed. Romano didn’t usually comment on his appearance like that, and it made him blush in a way not even all the photos and videos of him in his underwear could.

“Ah, it… broke last week. Come on, I’ll get changed in a moment,” he moved a box to clear the way to the couch. “I just got back from Prussia’s.”

“I can tell, you look like shit,” said Romano, and sat down at the couch. Spain sat down next to him. “Weren’t you going to get changed?”

Spain grabbed him and gave him a quick kiss. Romano sighed against his lips and gave him another, deeper kiss.

“Thank you Roma. But you didn’t have to do that,” said Spain when they separated.

“What? You were the one who kissed me first, bastard!”

Spain laughed. “I meant about the rent. You didn’t have to pay for it.”

Romano blushed and looked away. “Of course I had to. You didn’t want to go back to your old house. And like hell if you were going to do any more of those dumb jobs to get money.”

Spain laughed, carefully avoiding why he had been trying to get money.

Romano touched his face, and kissed him chastely on the lips. A kiss that set Spain's skin on fire.

"Tell me what's wrong," he whispered to his ear. Spain's heart jumped painfully.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Jerk, don't you tell me that."

"Roma-"

"I want to know. Did you fall in love with a human?"

"What?! No!"

Romano looked down. "It's fine. I can wait a human life,” he said, and clenched his hands. He would wait sixty, seventy years, and as many more as Spain took to mourn them. It didn’t matter. Not when Spain had been the center of his world for almost all his life.

So long as his sun would shine for him again, he would wait.

“Romano, why do you think that?” asked Spain, shaking him. “I love you. I love only you!”

“Then tell me,” he said, feeling something dark and cold tearing him from the inside.

He held Spain’s face, looking deep into his eyes, where he could see that old house, with the white walls and great expanses of bright green fields.

Something dark hid there.

“No!” shouted Spain, and covered his eyes. “Don’t, Romano. You know I hate it when you do that.”

“You didn’t always hate it. You used to look at me all the time.”

His small green fields near the shore hadn’t felt the warmth of Spain’s eyes in so long, he could barely stand it.

Spain kept silent, still covering his eyes from Romano.

“Mezzogiorno…(Midday),” whispered Spain, reaching for Romano’s hand. When he uncovered his eyes, they were the same bright green; but showed nothing more.

“Sol mío (My sun),” said Romano, and kissed him. He hated how perfect it felt. Hated how it had always felt like home in Spain’s arm. And how dared the idiot shut himself away, hiding whatever it was that he wanted to hide? He ended the kiss and pushed Spain away. “Something happened there, and if it hurts you I want to help. But if you hide it because you think it’ll hurt me, then so be it. I still want to know. There is no midday without sun.”

Spain draped his arms around Romano.

“And there is no time at which the sun can shine brighter than midday,” he whispered against Romano’s neck, inhaling the scent of Sicily, and cerdenia, and so many shores that he knew from the bottom of his heart. “Roma, do you really think I could ever stop loving you?”

Romano held him harder. He wanted to say he didn’t. But those were the words that the shadows whispered to his ears every night, when he yearned for sunlight with all his heart. ‘He will stop loving you. He will look at you and feel nothing’. Even now, held against Spain, and feeling his heartbeat next to his own, he heard them. Whispering. They spoke of that darkness in Spain’s eyes, telling him that all his nightmares would be born from the darkness hiding in that house.

“I can’t stop loving you,” said Spain, and Romano realized his silence had been answer enough. “I won’t stop loving you. I wish I could make you believe me. But the only thing I can do is tell you that…this,” he touched his right eye. “Won’t take me away from you. That nothing can.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Romano


	19. Chapter 19

Italy skipped through Germany’s garden towards the door and pressed the door bell. It chimed jingle bells, and he frowned.

“What? But it’s barely October,” he muttered to himself.

Germany’s and Prussia’s excitement over Christmas seemed to reach new heights each year.

Germany opened the door while rubbing at his sleepy eyes. “Oh, Italy. Hi, come in,” he said and motioned for Italy to step inside.

“Are you alright Germany?” asked Italy, and set the plate of lasagna on the kitchen table.

Germany yawned. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all,” he said, and placed a kiss on Italy’s cheek.

Italy hugged him and pressed his face against Germany’s hard chest. “Ah~, hug, hug, Germany! Hug me!”

Germany smiled and hugged him back with much less reluctance than before. Despite how much it pleased Italy, he couldn’t stop from feeling that there was something wrong with Germany.

Italy heated the lasagna and set the table while Germany finished sending some work emails.

“It’s ready~” chimed Italy, peeking into Germany’s study.

Germany stood next to his desk, looking at a tiny framed picture. “Thank you, I’ll be right there,” he said, and set down the picture.

Itally stepped into the study and looked at the tiny framed picture. “What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s from a vacation Prussia and I took to Malmö. On the summer of 95,” explained Germany, and handed him the picture. In it, Prussia balanced three beer bottles in one hand while he hugged Germany with the other. Both faced the camera with easy smiles that they didn’t show often.

“You both look so happy,” said Italy.

“Yeah. It was fun. Prussia said he wanted to see the medieval fair, and it was the first year I could take a weekend off since the reunification, so I took him there,” said Germany. He took another look at the picture and breathed deeply. “Let’s go eat,” he said, and walked out.

Italy left the photo on the desk and followed him.

They ate in silence. Not the usual silence where Italy would devour his pasta while Germany stared in concern, but a strange silence that stood between them like an unwanted barrier. Italy looked at Germany, and wished he could ask what was wrong. He picked at the varnish of the table.

“Is everything alright?” asked Italy with a soft voice.

Germany looked up from his food. “Uh? Yes, of course.”

“It’s just, you seem so…disperse…,” he said, motioning wildly in the air.

Germany laughed. “Disperse? I…I guess I’ve been worried. For Bruder,” he said and set down his fork. “He hasn’t been well since the reunification. I thought it was just me thinking something was different, but now…I know something’s wrong. And I’m sure Austria knows something he’s not telling, but I don’t-.“ The phone rang. “What is it now?”

Germany got up and answered the phone. Italy sunk in his chair and ate his lasagna with all the anger he could direct towards pasta. Which was not much, but enough. He had noticed Prussia’s change himself too, and had told France about it. He had even told Austria. Both of them had told him there was nothing to worry. They had said the same thing about the Holy Roman Empire. They said he would come back, until…

“Dolls? No, I haven’t bought any dolls,” said Germany on the phone. “Could you be looking for my brother instead? I’m Ludwig Beilschmidt, and…yes, my brother’s named Gilbert. Yes. Ah, I see. I’ll tell him you called. Thank you.”

Germany returned to the kitchen table with his usual frown. “Bruder’s buying ridiculous things again. I told him to stop after the pandas. This is too much,” he said.

“You said dolls?” asked Italy.

“Yes. They called from the store to say that his dolls were finished. I have no idea what this is, but I’m going to have a serious talk with him about buying useless toys.”

“Ah! No, I remember big brother Spain saying something about dolls. He said that he and Prussia were working hard to buy dolls. They sold food, and washed cars to get the money. I don’t know why they wanted them, but it must be important,” said Italy, carefully leaving out the part where they both caught on fire and ended up at the police station.

Germany narrowed his eyes at him. “What? I didn’t know that. Prussia didn’t tell me anything about needing money for anything. He usually tells me everything…,” he balled his hands into fists. “Now he’s keeping secrets from me. I’m tired of this. I’m going to that store.”

Italy nodded. “Yes! Let’s go!”

After supper they walked to the store together, holding hands, despite Germany’s aversion to showing their relationship in public.

Germany opened the pastel pink door for Italy, and cringed at the little bell that rang.

“This is all so pretty!” said Italy, looking at the pastel decoration of the store.

“This is…not somewhere I would expect him to come,” said Germany, looking at the white lace curtains at the sides of the shelves that lined the walls.

“But look, those are fifteenth century French style clothes,” said Italy, pointing at a doll in a shelf. “It’s fantastic. Look at the stitching, this is all hand sewn.”

A woman stepped out of a door in the corner in the store. “Welcome,” she said with a tired smile. She wiped her hands on her pastel pink apron and gave them a curious, amused look. “Can I help you?”

Germany cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m here to ask about an order made by my brother, Gilbert Beilschmidt.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, as if trying not to laugh. “He ordered your dolls. Give me a second,” she said and left.

“Our dolls?” asked Germany.

Italy shrugged. “I just heard that him and big brother Spain wanted some dolls, but I couldn’t…err, I didn’t have the opportunity to ask about them.”

Germany shook his head. It was obvious Italy was hiding something, but he would soon confront his brother about this, so he decided not to press Italy for answers, and instead looked at the dolls set in a table in the middle of the store. One was a perfect replica of Henry V, while a replica of Marie Antoinette stood behind him.

“They really are beautiful,” he said. He noticed another doll of a man with a flute, and smiled. “Look, it’s Old Fritz. My brother has a very…special fondness for him.”

“I’m sure he does,” said the lady, coming back to the front of the store. She carried three plastic cases in her hands. “He wouldn’t stop complaining about how his legs were longer, and his hat was historically inaccurate.”

She set the dolls on the counter, and Germany gasped. One of those dolls was a replica of him back when he was a child, dressed in the uniform Prussia had given him for his first appearance at court. Black with golden decorations. The other was a replica of Italy as a child with a green dress and white apron. The third one tough, was of a man in a Spanish uniform that Germany had never seen.

“Oh, my god. That’s…,” whispered Italy, and covered his mouth.

“Those are copies of us,” said Germany, pointing at the doll of Italy. “Why are you wearing a dress?”

Italy blinked, as if seeing the doll of himself for the first time. “Uh? Me? I was looking at…I mean, yeah that’s me. I had a dress like that once,” he said, and reached for Germany’s doll. “But this…I see. How lovely,” he whispered, caressing the golden hair of the doll with his fingers.

Germany blushed. “D-don’t say that about me! Argh, Gilbert will be explaining all of this.”

Italy shook his head. “No. Leave him. These are his memories. Let him have them,” he said, and rubbed a tear from his eye with the back of his hand.

“Feliciano?” asked Germany. “Why are you crying?”

“Because…I don’t know. Because I’m sad, but I’m also very happy. I’m so happy. Can we…talk later?” he said, touching the dolls cheek, and thinking of all his old paintings of Holy Rome he had hidden in the attic of his house, when it had become too painful to look at them.

Germany sighed. “Fine, but I still want an explanation,” he said. He looked at the doll of Old Fritz, and grabbed it. “I’ll be taking this one too,” he said with another deep sigh.

Italy clung to his arm, giggling. “Didn’t you say-?”

Germany blushed. “I know what I said. But I suppose I say a lot of things that don’t matter, in the end.”

They paid for everything and left. The sky had started to darken, and Italy grabbed Germany’s hand, entwining their fingers together.

“And explanation, uh? I don’t think I have one,” said Italy. “I guess I just realized that I love you even more than I thought.”

“W-what?” said Germany, turning completely red.

Italy stood on his toes and kissed him before he could react. For the first time, loving Germany betraying the love of his youth. He stared at Germany, noticing how the light of the setting sun turned his eyes so much darker than Holy Rome’s had ever been. He looked at the way his golden hair framed his ears, a much darker shade too. Everything about Germany was so different, and yet, when he stopped focusing on the details, and let his image linger in his mind…Prussia had a lot of things to explain, but the dolls were the least important.


	20. Chapter 20

That night, Germany stared at the ceiling while Italy slept next to him. Try as he might, sleep would not come, and looking at the clock ticking time by made him anxious. He stood up, covered Italy, and walked out of the room. He needed to take another look at that doll.

Italy had clearly seen something important there, but he couldn’t understand what. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face to clear his head. He rubbed at his eyes and took a good look at himself in the mirror.

He had always disliked staring at his own reflection. Ever since he was a kid.

He remembered Prussia showing him so many mirrors back when he was little. A seemingly endless parade of mirrors and painters until he voiced his displeasure.

 _“Look! This is you. Look.”_ Prussia told him, as if he expected him to say something about his appearance.

 _“Am I the way you expected me to be?”_ Germany had asked him once, after Prussia commissioned yet another painting of him.

 _“What do you mean?”_ Asked Prussia, with concern all over his face.

Germany had immediately regretted his words.

_“I-It’s just that…you made me right? And you’re always talking about how I look. I wondered if you had expected me to look like this.”_

_“I didn’t make you”_ Prussia had said, picking Germany up in his arms and walking to the big mirror in Germany’s room. “ _You are my brother. Not my creation.”_

Prussia looked at their reflection and grinned. “ _I always wanted you to be my brother. I’m so happy you’re mine now.”_

But now Germany didn’t belong to him. He would pretend like he didn’t care, but Germany knew that Prussia had lost a part of himself after the war. His goals, his direction in life…Germany had never thought that he might have lost the feeling of being a big brother, now that Germany had been forced to take over many of his territories. But if he thought deeply about it, that might have been yet another worry of his brother.

He walked out of the bathroom and went to see the doll that he had left in the living room. When he turned on the lights, he saw that Italy had taken them out of their cases and sat them next to each other on the living room table. When he walked closer, he noticed they were also holding hand, and couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He looked away and bit his lips. It was embarrassing, even if no one was looking at him. But in a way, seeing them like that made him feel warm inside.

He sat down on the couch in front of them. He had wanted to take a closer look at Italy’s doll, but he couldn’t do that now, could he? He would be taking him from…himself?

Somehow, when he looked at the little blond boy, he felt like there was something wrong with him. The hair seemed different, and so did the eyes. They weren’t the right shades, and the face overall didn’t seem like any expression Germany might make. It seemed nervous in some strange way.

Prussia wouldn’t have let those details pass, he was sure. When he saw them, he would undoubtedly be annoyed.

Italy’s doll touch, had come out perfect. He had always wondered how Italy had looked like when he was young. Especially when he remembered how much older than Germany he was.

“What are you doing here?” asked Italy behind him.

Germany sat up straight. “I didn’t hear you,” he said.

Italy sat down on the couch and snuggled against him. “Ve~, I surprised you captain! I deserve a kiss! Kiss!”

Germany smiled. “Fine, fine,” he said, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“You don’t like them?” asked Italy, picking up the dolls from the table.

“Mine looks weird, I don’t think Prussia will like it. I should tell them to change it,” said Germany.

“It’s perfect. Prussia will love it, you’ll see. I love it,” he said. He grinned and pressed their faces together. “Now kiss! Kiss before it’s too late!”

“S-stop that!” said Germany, and took the dolls away from him. “If you want more kisses I’ll give them to you if you go back to bed.”

“Yes captain!”

Germany carried him back to bed, to make good on his promise.


	21. Chapter 21

Prussia came back home with a cake that Austria had baked for him. Well, Austria hadn’t said it was specifically for him. But he had baked it, decorated it, and left it in the kitchen table all alone when he knew Prussia was in the house, so that basically counted as cake-for-Prussia, so he had brought it home to share it with his brother. Because he was an awesome big brother, of course.

“West~! West~! Look what I brought!” he called, and closed the room behind him.

Germany sat at the living room watching a football game and turned around to look at him.

Prussia lifted the cake for Germany to see, but his brother didn’t smile.

“Oh, nice,” said Germany, and turned off the tv.

“Aren’t you excited that your awesome big brother brought you cake?” said Prussia, and left the cake on the kitchen. “You should be more thankful when people bring delicious things. Praise me, and I’ll let you have one of the big strawberries.”

Germany hugged him from behind, and Prussia froze.

“Uh, West?”

“No praise for you this time,” said Germany, and hugged him harder. “Dumb brother,” he muttered against Prussia’s hair.

“W-what? West you’re worrying me now. What’s wrong?”

“The dolls store called to say your dolls were ready, so I picked them up.”

“Ah, r-really?” said Prussia, paling. “I…I can totally explain everything West, I swear. You see, Spain and I-“

“It doesn’t matter,” said Germany, finally letting him go. “I left them on your room, go see them while I cut the cake. Does Austria know you took it?”

Prussia ran upstairs yelling, “He made it for me!”

He opened the door to his room and found a doll house sitting on the floor in the middle of his room. “What the hell,” he said, kneeling next to it. “West did you buy this for me?” he called, but Germany didn’t answer.

He opened the doll house and found the little dolls he had ordered sitting together in a couch. They were just as he had specified them, and seeing them together like that almost made him squeal in joy. Around the house were also little replicas of Germany’s dogs, sleeping in a bed, or next to the fire place.

Germany walked into the room with two slices of cake, and sat down next to him in the floor. “No, I bought that one for me,” he said. “I got that one for you.” He pointed to another doll house in the corner of the room that Prussia hadn’t seen.

“R-really?! Two?” said Prussia, and crawled to the other doll house. He opened it and inside found a doll of Old Fritz holding a flute, and standing next to a doll of himself, dressed in one of his old guard uniforms and with a miniature Gilbird sitting on top of his head. On the top floor, two dolls of France and Spain sat at a little table drinking from little bottles of wine. France was dressed in white clothes from his Lous XV period, while Spain was dressed in red clothes like a pirate, complete with his old silver cross. “West…this…I can’t…”

“I know how much you miss those times,” said Germany. “But I wish you didn’t let your heart drift so far into the past, and stayed here with me. I still need you, Bruder.”


	22. Chapter 22

Spain opened his door to find a tall Italian man dressed in black with sunglasses that hid his eyes, and a jaw that could crush rocks.

“Mr. Fernandez?” he asked, voice grave and deep.

“Yes,” said Spain with a bright smile.

“I have something for you from the Vargas family,” said the man, and handed him two packages, one medium sized and rectangular, and a smaller square one, both wrapped in brown paper.

“Uh, thanks, said Spain, taking the packages and weighting them. He didn’t think Romano or Italy would send him a bomb, but he never knew for sure. Especially with Romano.

The man nodded, and left without another word. Spain closed the door and went to the window to see if there was anyone else with him, but the man walked away alone, and he couldn’t feel the presence of any other nation around.

He went to the couch, sat down, and opened the small package first. A note fell out that said _I figured you needed divine protection too, jerk;_ written with Romano’s ugly handwriting. He laughed and tore off the rest of the paper. Inside he found a gold cross with a diamond encrusted in the center.

“Aw, Roma is so cute,” he said, and put on the cross immediately. He’d had a feeling he would not be seeing his own cross back for a long while, but now he was sure.

He opened the other package and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the doll he had ordered staring back at him. That meant that Romano had seen it. He looked for another note attached, but found nothing.

This was just like Romano, sending signs for love and anger at the same time, confusing him endlessly as to his true feelings. Spain took a deep breath. He wanted to call Romano, but knew that he didn’t have the energy to explain himself. No, explanations to his little Roma would have to wait. For now, he took his keys, the doll, carried his bike downstairs. Biking would clear his head, and if he left right now, he would arrive at the beach by nightfall.

Outside, he looked up at the clear sky, and climbed his bike.

It was a good day.

#

Spain started a fire near the coast. In a small place where he made sure no human would come. He sat in the sand looking at the flames in front of him. The sea whispered things he’d rather not hear. But then, so did the fire before him.

He smiled.

In his hand he carried the doll of that soldier. Poor thing. He’d had a beautiful name. One that Spain had whispered just before the squad fired at him.

“Sorry,” he whispered at the doll. For a moment he marveled at the detail of the eyes and how the light from the flames made them seem as if shining with their own light. “Lo siento…,” he repeated, the words surrounded by a deep sigh.

“They all killed me, but it has been so much easier to blame only you,” he said, and stood up. “Because when I died, I saw you die too.”

He walked towards the sea. Among the sound of the waves, he heard the rifles shooting. Again and again. “Did you realize it then? That your blood ran in my veins too?” he asked the doll, and smiled tiredly.

Of course he did, the poor boy. That was why he had killed himself shortly after seeing to the execution of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

For once, Spain wasn’t sure if what he felt was anger at his own murder, or anger at having caused this man’s suicide. With a finger, he caressed the face of the doll.

“Please be gone now, I beg you,” he said, and kissed the doll’s forehead. “Be gone, and reborn in a time when I cannot hurt you again.”

With that, he smiled and threw the doll to the sea, in hopes that it would swallow the past. That it would swallow all his remorse, and the scent of gunpowder he couldn’t wash from his hair.

He laid down next to the fire, and fell asleep listening to the waves.

The next morning, he woke up when the light of the rising sun hit his face. He breathed deeply and stretched. Something around him smelled delightful, and he smiled.

“You’re fucking crazy,” said a deep voice nearby.

Spain opened his eyes and sat up at once. “W-wha- Roma?” he said, and something slid off him. He looked down to see Romano’s coat was draped over him.

Romano sat on the sand next to him, glaring at the sea. “Falling asleep here, alone, next to an open fire? You’re crazy, or an idiot, but you’ve always been an idiot, so-“

Spain crawled towards him and kissed him.

“Did you follow me here?” he asked, pulling Romano against his chest.

“No.”

“Roma~”

“Fine, yes, I did follow you here. What was I supposed to do? Just sit by while you ran away randomly to throw dolls to the sea and then fall down on the sand? Are you serious? Do you really not see how crazy that-?”

Spain kissed him again.

“Stop interrupting me!” said Romano when they parted, but draped his coat so it covered the both of them.

“Heh, heh, yes. I think it’s pretty crazy. I promise not to do it again, alright?” said Spain, and ruffled Romano’s hair. “But I’m happy you did follow me. I worried that you were seriously angry at me this time.”

“I’m always angry at you,” said Romano in a low voice. “I’m always angry. I didn’t know it worried you.”

“I worried that you weren’t around. How did you stop me from feeling your presence?”

Romano hid his face under the coat. “You just didn’t feel me because you’re an easily distracted fool.”

Spain laughed, and Romano wanted to punch him.

“Roma, I have existed on this earth for thousands of years, don’t try to trick me on this.”

Romano huffed. “Old fart. I can’t tell because

“How did you know where I was?”

Romano hid his face under the coat. “I can’t say. It’s kind of…stalkerish.”

“Stalker…ish? Heh, well now you _have_ to tell me.”

“No.”

Spain pulled the coat off and threw it on the sand, then pushed Romano down on the sand.

“What are you doing?!” asked Romano, blushing.

Spain smirked, and kissed his cheek, then his chin, nipped at his neck. “Tell me, Roma,” he said and licked at Romano’s neck.

Romano whined, trembling under him. Spain started unbuttoning his shirt, kissing each new patch of skin he revealed. “If you don’t tell me, you’ll regret it,” he said.

“Is that a threat?”

“Of course not. I’m just gonna tickle you.”

“What?!” whined Romano, his voice cracking when Spain grabbed his sides and started tickling him mercilessly. Romano screamed and laughed, hitting at Spain and squirming. “Nooo! Stop! Stop! I’ll tell you!”

Spain let go of him. In his chest, his heart beat so fast it was almost painful, because there, next to the sand, under the bright sun and with Romano in his arms, he had found true joy.

“F-fine,” whined Romano, and stuck his tongue at Spain. “I put a microchip in the cross.”

“Eeh?”

“And when you came to the beach I had you followed by my men. I just…wanted to know why that doll was so important to you. But when they told me you had just…collapsed in the beach, I had to come. I thought something might have happened to you, and I…But you were just sleeping!” he sat up and hit Spain on the shoulder. “You looked so stupid sleeping with that dumbass smile on your face! I worried for nothing!”

Spain pulled him into his arms. “I love you Roma!”

“So you don’t think that was stalkerish?” asked Romano.

“That was definitely stalkerish, but I love you anyway.”


	23. Chapter 23

Prussia brought his dolls to the park. He brought a tiny square of cloth for them to sit on, and tiny plates so little Germany and little Italy could have a picnic along with their little dogs.

He arranged everything with milimetric precision, and then sat on the grass next to them, listening to the soft sound of the wind shifting through the grass. He could have stayed there all day, every day; staring at them and remembering so many times when he had seen them sitting together, just like that.

France walked up to him, and extended a picnic blanket on the grass.

“Ma Cherie, come sit here,” he said, patting a place next to him. “If you get your clothes dirty, your baby brother will be mad.”

Prussia frowned. “I didn’t notice you approaching,” he said, lifting his eyes from his dolls.

“I am of a cat like nature,” said France, and opened a basket that contained all kinds of dainty finger foods. “We’re sneaky like that.”

“Prussia scratched his head. “You know what I mean,” he said, then looked down at his hands. “I can’t…feel anything anymore. Not like before. I didn’t feel Austria back in the club. I didn’t feel Romano or Italy back at the market. I didn’t…I didn’t feel you now.”

France grabbed one of Prussia’s hands on his own, and traced the lines in them with the tip of his finger. “I know.”

“Am I dying, France?”

France sighed, and clasped Prussia’s hand. “I sure hope not. I’d miss you terribly,” he said.

Prussia’s fingers were icy cold, and so were his tears when they overflowed from his eyes.

“I’m scared. I’m so scared, and I’m tired of pretending I’m not,” whispered Prussia, his words choking him.

France pulled him against his chest, and held him while the silent sobs rocked his body.

“Prussia, I’m old,” said France, passing a hand through Prussia’s silvery white hair. “I’m over two thousand years old. I’ve seen nations be born and perish. But who will die? And where do they go? I still wonder that, late at night, when the whispers of my people remind me constantly of what I am.”

“My brother says that Rome went to heaven. And that he visits some times,” whispered Prussia against France’s gray sweater.

“France nodded. “Yes. But Rome was an empire the likes of which I seldom saw again. You are not an empire Prussia. You in fact, did not start out being a land.”

Prussia pushed himself away from France. “What?!”

“You have forgotten it already, or maybe birth is something we can’t remember either. But I saw you being born in Acre. I traveled down to fight with the second wave of French crusade forces, and turned back when I felt I had seen enough of those men. When I passed by Acre, by your hospital, I heard you scream. I heard all the people that would become you, screaming until blood spilled from their mouths into the earth.” France smiled and leaned back down on his elbows. “You were the first nation I saw be born, and I knew you were not like me. You were an order, bound by blood and faith…then came the hospital, as I’m sure you remember. Ah, how beautiful it has been to see you grow.”

“I…I don’t remember…,” said Prussia. But he knew it had to be true. His farthest memories were of the hospital in Acre, and he _knew_ there was something buried behind those memories, deep in the recesses of his mind.

“If I had to take a wild guess,” said France. “I’d think you are dying because you have stopped becoming strong. You have been everything Prussia, and now you cry over some lost title, whining about having to sit like a burden on your brother’s shadow. Really, I would think it easier for me to die completely. After all I am only a ship. I can be repaired, but I will always be a ship. You though…there seems to be something in human blood that goes on forever. And because of that you can do so too. On your own.”

Prussia lowered his eyes. “You…,” he started, but someone came riding a bike at full speed, veered and slid through the grass next to them.

“Hey! I brought wine!” yelled Spain, waving a bottle over his head. He jumped off the bike, tripped and fell down, but twisted to fall on his free hand to protect the bottle. “Shit! Shit! I think I broke something.”

He crawled to the picnic blanket and Prussia snatched the bottle away from him. “You idiot, I was having a moment here!”

“I know, that’s why I came as fast as I could!” said Spain. He tried to stand and hug Prussia, but his leg gave out under him and he crashed down on top of him. “Fuck no, I think I really did break something.”

“We’ll deal with that later,” said France, taking three wine glasses out of the basket. “For now, let’s toast. To us! To a hundred years more together, and a thousand more after that!”


End file.
